


Brain-to-mouth filter

by Spindizzy



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 12:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6194989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spindizzy/pseuds/Spindizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you think?" Jensen asked. "Shirt? No shirt? Which one looks less 'Just hiked through a jungle' chic? Or less 'themed stripper'?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brain-to-mouth filter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feverpitchfiasco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverpitchfiasco/gifts).



> Dear @feverpitchfiasco - I hope this is okay! It was not quite as angsty as I wanted it to be, but the ending is exactly as saccharine.

"What do you think?" Jensen asked. "Shirt? No shirt? Which one looks less 'Just hiked through a jungle' chic? Or less 'themed stripper'?"

Cougar didn't even look away from the window. They'd had to bury the most obviously army gear about a mile outside of town, so Cougar didn't have his rifle, but the way he was checking out the vantage points of the empty apartment they'd broken into suggested he'd maybe forgotten that. Jensen wasn't going to argue with him though; they'd forced marched away from the – the crash site, and they'd barely stopped to rest since. He didn't know how it was wearing on Cougar, but Cougar's face was tight and pinched around the eyes, and Cougar's focus was – well, it didn't have much space for Jensen to distract him. Which was fine, Jensen wasn't sure he had much space in his brain for anything that wasn't getting a motel room for the night – okay, no, there was never only space for one thing in his brain, there was totally room for more stuff, but he was at the stage where all of the edges of his thoughts were melding together even though he felt wired behind the eyes. All he wanted to do was maybe shower and sleep for a month.

Which was fine, Jensen was always up for a little undercover work, even if it usually needed a little more prep than stripping off his t-shirt and using it to try to wipe off the worst of the sweat and grime. Hopefully, he looked like an asshole tourist rather than an asshole dead soldier, and that was going to be another point in favour of ignoring uniform regs until the end of time. He could almost hear Clay's pained _a lot of money went into your special forces training, Jensen_ as he posed for an inspection Cougar didn't give him. 

"Okay!" Jensen said, voice sounding too loud and too chirpy as it echoed around the room. "I'll be back in about hour. Wish me luck!"

Cougar nodded distractedly, and leaned his head back near the glass, the shadows of the hat making his face invisible.

Jensen was back in half that, feeling like a pirate with his pockets laden with booty. He'd found a bar a couple of streets away that was busy enough (and yes, full of tourists) that he'd managed to snag a few wallets and bail before anyone raised the alarm. The cash had gone straight into his pockets, everything else ditched near the bar, and he let himself back into their base whistling. No one was gonna suspect a guy who whistled while he broke into a place, right?

He closed the door behind him, deciding against hitting the lights; he couldn't hear any movement, so maybe Cougar'd got some sleep? That'd be good, Cougs had looked like he was running on pure determination and badass-ness for the last few miles —

Something crashed into him. Jensen twisted as he fell – nearly took a fist to the eye, ducked his head so it caught his glasses instead and grazed the side of his face – and managed to drag the guy down with him. They rolled together, Jensen managing not to get punched in the face again, but he couldn't get the leverage to get the guy off him. Jensen caught his arms, and the guy reared back. The streetlight through the window caught his face – and Jensen went limp beneath him in relief. "Cougar?"

He could see the exact moment when Cougar realised it was him: Cougar blinked, and the snarl that'd been twisting his face up dropped into horror. Cougar jerked his hands away like Jensen's grip had burned him.

"Cougs?" Jensen said quietly, keeping his hands raised where Cougar could see them. Cougar opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then shook his head instead, something helpless and guilty in his face as he started to flick his hands over Jensen to check for injuries. Jensen let him do it, keeping still and quiet, at least until Cougar's fingers brushed the side of his face where Cougar had actually caught him. He hissed despite himself, and Cougar tensed up, what Jensen could see of his expression drawing tight and unhappy.

"Come on doc, tell me the truth, I can take it —" Jensen caught Cougar's free hand in both of his, holding it up in front of him and trying to gaze at him dreamily. Not that that bit was hard, Jensen could admit that Cougs was dreamy, but Cougar was looking at him like he thought maybe Jensen had _actually_ hit his head. " — are you gonna have to amputate?"

There was a beat, and then Cougar started to laugh. It was a soft, soundless thing, but his shoulders started shaking, and he curled over Jensen's hands to muffle himself. It was probably exhaustion more than anything else, but after the helicopter _anything_ that could pass as laughter was a victory. 

"Come on, Cougar," Jensen said. "I need you to find my glasses so we can go somewhere with a bed." He paused, thought for a second. "Maybe my shirt too, I guess." There was another pause, while Cougar leaned back and looked Jensen up and down as best he could while... Essentially straddling his hips. "Oh what, you can't tell me you missed my brilliant plan. I was _smooth._ I _blended._ I am the best at undercover missions, that's why I always get the coolest outfits."

Cougar snorted at that, but he stood up – and funny how Jensen hadn't realised he might be cold until Cougar wasn't sitting on him any more – moving out of Jensen's visual range and started to shift around like he was looking for something. Jensen pulled himself to his feet slowly, reminding himself that sleeping on the floor when he totally had the money for a bed _still wasn't the plan._ His shirt was where he had left it, at least, even if he wasn't sure he had the energy to put it back on.

Footsteps moved behind him, then Cougar put a hand on Jensen's arm. "I'm sorry," Cougar said, very seriously. He squeezed slightly, then moved to step away.

And Jensen? Well, Jensen opened his mouth to say that it was _fine_ , they'd all come close to punching each other in the face before, but what came out of his mouth was "Maybe you should kiss it better then." He realised what he was saying _just_ too late to stop himself, and was left gesticulating to himself as he mouthed the words again, still not a hundred percent sure that he'd said that out loud. It wasn't like he didn't prior for stuff like that that; as long as an injury wasn't actually _serious_ he was happy to whine about it like a six-year-old, but...

But his train of thought pretty much derailed itself off a cliff when Cougar leaned in and pressed his lips just next to where the bruise was going to be. It was dry and prickly and Jensen could still feel himself lighting up like Christmas, a big dopey grin across his face.

Cougar carefully slid Jensen's glasses onto his face, waiting until they were secure so he could be sure that Jensen could see him rolling his eyes before he tapped his hat back down to cover them. The hat couldn't hide the tiny smile, though. And Jensen slung an arm round his shoulder so they could lean on each other, finally feeling like it might be safe to relax.


End file.
